


Actions Speak Louder

by yourcoffeegal



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Fighting the Patriarchy, Hurt/Comfort, LITERALLY, fight, help how do i say that there's more coming later, idk we're just using tags, not finished, nothing actually happens though, paul is a sweetheart, tw: mentions of sexual assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourcoffeegal/pseuds/yourcoffeegal
Summary: Emma gets in a fight and Paul gets worried. Society doesn't seem to be getting to Emma a whole lot anymore, and neither of them like that very much. Title from Tick Tick Boom!!
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	1. Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> TW for mentions of sexual assault (nothing actually happens though)

Paul had been home working on his statistical analysis for a couple hours, waiting for Emma to get home. He had had a long day at work and wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with Emma on the couch, order a pizza, and fall asleep watching TV. Days where Emma had to work the closing shift at Beanies after class were hard on both of them, but they both knew they got to end the day with each other. That's why Paul's heart soared when he heard someone knocking on the door.

He opened it up, fully prepared for Emma to jump into his arms, but what he saw instead was Emma, looking even smaller than usual, covered in bruises which were covered in dirt, with a small trail of blood trickling down her leg, and walking with the biggest limp he had ever seen from her. She had a black eye and looked defeated, but not weak.

"Oh my god, Em, what happened?"

"Got in a fight with a pervert." As she talked, Paul slowly helped her inside. She grimaced with every step, but didn't let that stop her. "He got mad when I wouldn't go on a date with him. Guess he followed me home and grabbed me in that alley. So I beat him up and then he tried to beat me up. I won." She smiled a little, clearly somewhat proud of herself, which Paul reciprocated to appease her, but he displayed a face much more full of concern.

He moved his hand from her shoulder to her back to help guide her into the bedroom, and was greeted with a wet mixture of dirty water and blood.

"Why are you bleeding?" Paul frantically asked, again noticing the blood on her thigh.

"Fell on the pavement. I fell on my butt and it got my thigh but then the dude kicked me and it rubbed my back."

"Okay, let's clean that up first, yeah?" Paul and Emma made the trek to the bedroom, Emma beginning to grunt slightly with every step. Paul let go for a split second to make sure the blanket covered the entire bed so he could clean it and immediately returned to Emma. 

"Okay, Em, let's get you out of these bloody clothes." 

"You're a little eager there Matthews, huh?"

"Emma, you're bleeding."

"Right."

Paul began to peel Emma's shirt off her back, but when it came time for her to lift her arms, he was stopped by a sharp intake of breath followed by several slightly unintelligible sounds of pain.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'll be as gentle as I can." Eventually, they managed to get Emma in her underwear onto her stomach on the bed. While she was settling in the blanket, Paul took the time to really examine the damage, and he was completely baffled by what he saw.

"Emmy, your back is covered in bruises. How badly did he hurt you?"

"We're not talking about it."

"I'm gonna get a washcloth and some band-aids, okay?"

Paul pretty much worshiped Emma. She was his favorite person in the entire world. If she was happy, he was happy. Not to mention she was the prettiest, smartest, wittiest person he had ever met. She truly deserved all the good in the world. "Who would do this to you?" He didn't understand how anyone could hurt her. He would hate himself forever if he so much as upset her.

When Paul returned, Emma was trying to steady her breathing, and he wanted more than anything to make her feel better. He wanted to take away her pain. He had been infected for her and he would gladly transfer her bruises onto himself had there been a way.

"Hey. You doing okay?"

"I guess."

Paul didn't want to push her, but suspected there was more to her feelings than what she was letting on. Emma argued with customers all the time, but she had never gotten in a physical fight with them before. Paul had never seen Emma fight anyone before, despite how angry she tended to be. She may have throw a few punches, but those never affected her the way this was.

As Paul started to dab the washcloth over the skid marks on Emma's back and thigh, she quietly whimpered. It was very hard to prevent hitting bruises since they took up such a large amount of her body, and they were so tender the washcloth set the pain off. Trying to be of any comfort possible, Paul threaded his free hand through her hair, careful not to tug, soothing her.

Aside from the occasional cry, Emma was silent, which only allowed Paul's thoughts to race more. He knew how much Emma hated being vulnerable, but she didn't have much of a choice at that moment. She hadn't resisted his help at all. She wanted Paul to help, which he was grateful for, but it increased his worry. Emma hated needing people, but she needed Paul.

She didn't speak the entirety of the time Paul cleaned up the blood. "I'm gonna get some ice for your bruises, okay?"

Emma didn't respond. Paul would have thought she was asleep if he didn't know that it was impossible for her to sleep in pain unless she took medication. Her bad leg had given both of them enough experience to know what she needed. But this was far harder than her bad leg. No one wanted to hurt her leg. This time, someone wanted to hurt her.

Emma finally spoke when Paul started placing ice packs on her back, simply saying "'S cold."

"I know, baby." Paul grabbed the spare blanket from the corner of the room and draped it over her, wanting to do anything to make her feel any bit better. His hands found their way in her hair again, and she made a small noise of contentment, easing Paul just enough to focus on taking care of her. 

They sat in silence until the ice packs melted and they were replaced by Paul's warm hand. He touched her back as lightly as possible, warming her up and calming her down. Anytime he felt her shiver slightly underneath his touch from the numbness of the ice packs, he bent down and kissed her shoulder. 

"Hey, baby?" Paul asked.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to help you take a bath? We can really get all this dirt off?"

"Kay."

Emma tried to roll over so Paul could pick her up and carry her, but as soon as she got there she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get a grip on the pain. Paul was almost afraid to touch her, but as soon as she nodded her approval, he gently picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He sat her down on the sink so he could run a bath, and when he turned back around she was looking at the ground. 

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Emma nodded her head assuredly, and Paul silently sighed. She had already reached her maximum self-imposed allowance of vulnerability for the day, and he didn't want to hurt her even more, but he also knew once she talked about it she would feel mentally better.

Despite his rushing thoughts, he put his energy into making his love feel physically better. He helped her off the sink, slowly removed her remaining clothing, and guided her into the bathtub. She grunted as she sat, desperately gripping Paul's arm, but once she was sat down, she felt the best she had since she got home. The warm water and Paul's presence calmed her, and she felt safe enough to sit back slightly and close her eyes. She let Paul's hands glide over her, ridding her from the filth. His scrubs were smooth and gentle, and the peace was almost enough to override the immense pain she was in.

When they were done, Paul helped Emma into her robe and carried her back to their bed, where he followed through on his initial goal of ordering a pizza. He set her on his lap, her head instinctively going to rest her head on his chest. He continued to rub her back with one hand, the other grabbing hers and playing with her fingers, a favorite distraction of theirs. He kissed each of her fingers and looked lovingly down at her, noticing her looking down once again.

To the surprise of both, she spoke. "I hate the world."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Paul wondered if that was all of the subject he would hear that night, and hoped for more, knowing very well if either of them thought anymore about the situation that day their souls would burst.

"Not you, though."

"What?"

"I don't hate you."

Paul's soul may not have burst, but his heart most definitely did.

"I love you more than anything else in the world, Em."

"Right back atcha, Matthews."

They ate their pizza right there in bed, which involved many muttered "I love yous" and silent concerns over what was to come. Paul never stopped fretting over Emma, which she never tried to prevent, making Paul fret even more. When he finally got her to fall asleep he gazed at her, thinking about how to make sure she never had to feel pain again. He knew from experience she would have to talk. She would have to go through more pain before she could feel better again. And to Paul, Emma in pain was the worst sight in the world.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma wants to go to work. Paul knows that's not possible.

Paul woke up with a lingering concern that was only enhanced by the muffled groans coming from the floor at the foot of his bed. 

"Em?" The only response he received was a grunt that sounded somewhat painful.

His protective instinct kicking in, he fully woke up and began to panic yet again.

"Em, baby! What happened?"

"Tried to get ready for work. Fell down."

Paul kicked the sheets off, cautiously walking around the bed so as not to run into Emma. "What made you think you'd be able to go to work today? You couldn't even walk yesterday, that's not gonna solve itself over one night."

"Nora'll be mad." Her voice was weak, and did not sound in any less pain than it had the night prior. In fact, it had probably worsened since her muscles had time to get sore and the painkillers she took before sleeping had worn off.

"I'll call her and tell her what happened, she won't be mad."

Trying to sit up and failing miserably, Emma panicked as well. "No, don't tell her. I don't want her to know."

"Hey, sudden movements aren't gonna help, yeah?" Emma, still wanting to get out of her seemingly pathetic position, but relenting to Paul's help, lifted her arms enough for Paul to get the clue and carefully pick her up. He laid her down on the bed and sat next to her, rubbing her arm soothingly. 

"I have to work." Her tone gave away her desperation to be okay, when her figure gave away the fact she was very much not okay.

Paul looked down at his sad little barista, moved some hair from her forehead, and kissed her forehead. "Emmy, I can't let you go to work today."

Her face suddenly contorted into one of frustration and a hint of repressed anger. "You're right, you can't let me do anything. It's my decision."

"Hey, you know I didn't mean it like that. But, Emma, you can't stand up. How are you gonna make coffee?"

"Zoey goes to work without doing anything all the time. I want painkillers."

While Paul got the painkillers off the bedside table and gave them to Emma, his concern grew. Emma would never pass up an opportunity to not go to work. She never cared what Nora and Zoey thought about her or whether or not she was at work.

"How much pain are you in, baby?"

"A lot, but nothing I haven't dealt with."

"Yes, but your leg is one limb, you have bruises everywhere."

"You get pretty sore backpacking in Guatemala for ten years. I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you would be, but you haven't been in Guatemala for a couple years."

"I don't have time for this. I have to go to work, Paul." Her voice had a slight whine to it, making Paul's heart break even more. He didn't want to upset her anymore, but he also didn't want her collapsing at work.

"Okay, how 'bout this? I can call Nora and tell her you feel sick and you're not gonna be there on time. Then I'll call Hidgens so he can come check up on you and if he gives you the all-clear you can say you started feeling better and go to work."

Emma didn't want to show up to work late or not at all, drawing more attention to herself, but she really didn't want to leave Paul either. "Okay."

"Alright, you stay here and rest. I'm gonna call them and I'll come back with some food, kay?"

"Wait! Don't tell them what happened. I don't want them to know."

"Well, Hidgens is gonna find out eventually, right?"

"Just, don't tell him. Please?"  


"Okay, baby."

"I love you, Paul."

Paul's face instantly softened at the unusual verbal affection. "I love you too, princess."

If Paul wasn't concerned before, he definitely was now. Emma? Not wanting people to know she won a fight? Or that she was in a fight at all? Even if she had lost, he doubted he would hesitate to show off her muscles and how she almost won even though her opponent was two feet and a hundred pounds larger than her. Still, he respected her wishes and left any details out of his conversations. Knowing Emma nearly as well as Paul, this only made Hidgens more concerned. 

"What's wrong? Is Emma okay?"  


"Well, not exactly."

"Why not? What happened?"  


"She doesn't want me to tell you."

"Young man, I don't like that answer."

"Neither do I, but it's what she wants. Please just come over, Hidgens."

"I'll be there in twenty."

Paul re-entered the bedroom to see Emma lying in the same position he left her in, staring at the ceiling, obviously thinking about something. "I brought you some toast."  


"Thanks, man." Paul reclaimed his spot by Emma with his own plate of toast, staring at nothing rather than eating it.

"Are you gonna eat your toast?"  


"I'm not really hungry."

"You should eat." And so he did.

"Hidgens is gonna be here in a little bit."

Emma sighed, which was not entirely unexpected, but not entirely ideal either.

"You like Hidgens, yeah?"

"Yeah, as long as he doesn't baby me."

"Huh?"  


"Nevermind."

The two continued to eat their toast in silence, Emma leaning on Paul's shoulder every once in a while, until they were done and all there was for Paul to do was hold his love close but not too tight until the doorbell ringed.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short but I got tired! Hope you're enjoying. Please comment; they make my day!


	3. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidgens just wants to help. Emma says she doesn't want help.

The doorbell ringed. And ringed again. And again. And was promptly followed by three firm knocks. Emma, pissed because she had just gotten close to falling asleep again, gripped Paul's arm as tightly as possible, willing the noise to go away. "Paul," she whined, "make it stop."

"I will, but you gotta let go of my arm, honey. Hidgens doesn't have a key."

"Then let's get him a key."

Paul raised his eyebrow at Emma, but her head was too far buried, half in her pillow and half in her boyfriend, to notice. "You sure you wanna do that?"  


Emma wanted to make a snarky comeback, but was interrupted by the doorbell yet again. Paul gently pulled his arm out of her grip, much to the distaste of the woman next to him, and awkwardly shuffled down the hallway to greet the professor. Before he could do that, however, the professor greeted him.

"Is Emma alright? Where is she? What happened?"

"Calm down, you'll just stress everyone out more. Long story short, she got into a fight, I think she's physically overall okay, but I just wanted you to make sure. But, she's not acting like how I thought tough Emma Perkins would act after a fight. She clearly doesn't want to talk about it, but I'm worried."

"Did she win?"

Paul was irritated at Hidgens' comment, but scoffed nonetheless. "Of course she did."  


Then together, somewhat muttered under both of their breaths, "That's my girl."

Their girl then let out of a whine that reminded them both of the situation at hand, calling out, "Pauuuul!" complete with a minuscule voice crack in the middle. The two men ran to her, hoping to be of any comfort possible. 

They entered the sad, cold room to a picture of Emma in the sheets that were only barely hanging on the bed, laying on her stomach, where she ended up while clinging to Paul earlier. Paul immediately went to her side, grabbing her hand, while Hidgens could only stare in the doorframe. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Paul asked, rubbing small circles on her palm. 

"Everything hurts."  


Hidgens, who had seemingly gotten over the initial shock of seeing his strong-willed, high-tempered daughter so fragile, replied, "Well that's not very good, dear." Emma responded with a half-hearted "Humph," as if she had begun to say hello, but decided she was too exhausted halfway through. He walked next to her, on the unoccupied side of the bed, and crouched down. "Where does it hurt, Emma?"  


"Everywhere!" Emma sighed at her outburst, and resigned herself to sinking lower into her pillow. Paul took over for her, telling Hidgens, "She said she fell on her back and her thighs. That's where most of the bruises are. She also has a black eye." Once Paul was barely done talking, she let out a "Hey!" 

"What, baby?"

But Emma had moved on from whatever her disapproval was, and said, "Nothing."

Hidgens carefully placed his hand on Emma's head, being cautious. "Dear, can I see the bruises?"

Emma paused a minute before responding. "I guess." 

Paul then moved the remaining blankets and sheets, and slowly began to lift up her shirt. As he did so, Emma made a small noise of protest. 

"Is this okay, Emmy?" 

But, yet again, Emma had moved on, simply humming her agreement. 

Hidgens went to work carefully examining each bruise, being careful not to push them. The shorts she wore to bed revealed the bruises on her thighs, darkening the majority of her skin from the angle the men saw. In the daylight Paul could see the bruises much easier, and not being fresh anymore, they made her look like a sad, sad painting. They were a variety of colors, the larger ones mostly being purple, but some of them being closer to green, brown, and even black, acting as a watercolor of darkness, a landscape of pain. 

The professor was quiet while he worked, trying not to disturb anyone. Emma tried to keep quiet, but could not help but let out the occasional groan every once in a while. Paul had to stop looking at the bruises, avoiding the pain, and returned to the comfort, running his fingers through Emma's hair and holding her hand. 

After a while, Hidgens cleared his throat. "Well, it doesn't look like you have any long-lasting harm. You'll be sore for a few days, during which you should stay at home and rest. Now, let's look at that black eye."

Paul helped Emma sit up, which really meant Paul helped Emma lean on him. She used none of her own body weight to hold herself up, and she was so close to Paul, Hidgens could barely see her eye. It was as dark as the rest of her bruises, and covered a pretty large part of her face, giving away the size of the perpetrator.   


Hidgens asked Emma some questions, all of which she was very reluctant to answer, not wanting to say anything, hoping her lack of verbal communication would make the whole situation go away. 

"Alright, dear." Hidgens sat down on the bed, gently placing his hand on Emma's shoulder. "It looks like your vision is all clear. But keep ice on that eye."

Paul, ever-ready to help Emma in any way possible, jumped up to get a new ice pack.

"Anything else I can do, dear?"  


"No, Hidgens." They sat in silence for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity. "Shouldn't you be going to work?"

"It's Saturday, Emma. I don't have a class on Saturdays."

"I don't want to be a burden."  


"You could never be a burden, dear. And I told you, I have nothing else planned today. No classes. Speaking of which, you shouldn't be going to class until you're all healed."

"But, you said-"

"No buts. I'll send you all the notes."

"But what about-?"  


"No work, either. You can't sit up, you're not making coffee."

Paul came in with the ice pack, which Hidgens put out his hand to ask for. Paul gave it to him, and he wasted no time in putting it to Emma's eye. She started squirming, and fiercely murmured, "I can hold it myself." 

"I know you can, dear. I'm just helping you."  


"Well, I don't want your help."  


The room went silent. Slowly, Hidgens gave Emma the ice pack and stood up to leave. Before he went out the door, he called, "I love you, Emma."

One down. One to go.

Emma cuddled into Paul again, holding the ice pack to her eye until it became too cold to stand. Once a reasonable amount of time had passed to not seem suspicious, Emma said, "Hey."  


"Hey." Paul kissed her head.  


"Why aren't you at work?" 

"I called out. If you can't go to work, I'm not gonna go to work. I don't want you to be sad and alone. And who else is gonna get you ice packs and painkillers?"

Emma briefly opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Paul, who had not noticed, started gently massaging her scalp. "And do this?" He kissed her cheek. "And this." On the nose. "And this." And finally, gave her a short peck on the lips. "And this."  


Emma's feelings were still mixed, but she was content enough, and didn't want to think about it anymore. So, with new painkillers in her system, she rested her head on Paul's chest, wrapped her arms around him, and drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This story is become much more prolonged than previously anticipated but I think I'm okay with that!


End file.
